


Freedom

by allisondraste



Series: Roses and Thorns [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Humor, NSFW, Romance, Sex, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisondraste/pseuds/allisondraste
Summary: Worried that the Blight will rob her of her new-found freedom, Lucia makes a request Alistair wouldn't dream of turning down.





	Freedom

Lucia sat at the outer edge of camp, far from the fire’s light, gazing over the small, frozen lake amid the Frostbacks.  Had Alistair not known better, he would have thought her to be frozen as well, still as she was in the cold, frost glistening in her dark hair.  He worried for her, sitting in the cold with not so much as a cloak for warmth. She liked the cold, she said, it offered her clarity of mind and focus, things he couldn’t imagine having himself.  He just wished she’d care more about her own physical well being. Frostbite wouldn’t care whether she liked the chilly mountain air or not. 

The journey to Orzammar, and the subsequent mission to the Deep Roads had been more harrowing than any of them expected.  The number of darkspawn at Ostagar had been nothing compared to the massive horde swarming from all directions underground.  The crippling weight of the task before them, the last two Wardens in Ferelden, made him want to give up hope. Had he been alone, he probably would have, but he had her.  That was, if she didn’t freeze herself to death.

He watched her for a moment, heart fluttering in his chest.  There were many things he wanted to say to her, but every time he tried the words tangled in his throat and caught in his mouth.  It was all so clear in his mind, however. He loved her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted her to know that he loved her and wanted to be with her.  Each passing day, it felt more and more imperative that he do just that. They could die at any moment, after all. 

Picking up his courage, and a thick woolen blanket from a rack where it warmed near the fire, Alistair made his way toward her.  Despite his heavy footsteps in the snow, her eyes remained focused upon the lake, dark brows knitted. One less familiar with her face would have thought her to simply be in thought, but Alistair knew better.  She was upset.

“Worried about me?”  Lucia turned her gaze to meet him only when he reached her and draped the blanket around her shoulders. A hint of a smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. 

“Always,” he said with a laugh, sitting down in the snow beside her, “Everything alright?”

“You think I’m troubled?” Her eyes searched him curiously.

“I know you are,” he answered her with more confidence than he felt.

A bitter laugh escaped her and she let her head fall against his shoulder, the warmth spreading through his chest and into his face.  “I’ve been told that my face is impossible to read.”

“Whoever told you that must not have paid enough attention.” 

“And you pay attention?”  She looked up at him, bright eyes glittering beneath the stars.  How awfully poetic. 

“It’s hard not to.”  Alistair offered her a smile, and she laughed again in response turning her face to look back out toward the lake.  

“I’ve spent most of my life hiding my feelings so that nobody could us them against me,” she admitted, “I was really good at it, actually.  So good that I convinced myself I couldn’t feel.”

“That’s not true,” he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Not anymore.” She shook her head, voice cracking. “I’m scared all the time now.  I have all this freedom I’ve never had, and I constantly worry that it will all be taken from me.”

“That’s not going to happen.” 

“How can you be so sure?” She pulled away from him, scowling, and he panicked. “There are more ways to lose freedom than to be locked away in a tower.  The Deep Roads, seeing darkspawn pouring out from every hole, seeing the archdemon, the broodmother… what kind of freedom is it knowing that the purpose of my life now is to make sure that those  _ things  _ don’t hurt someone else? I may have to die for people I’ve never met, people who call me traitor and liar and apostate. I am expected to put my duty to the Wardens before my duty to myself and those I care about.  I know you love the Wardens, but this is not freedom, just looser chains.”

“You’ve never mentioned any of this before,” Alistair said softly, wanting desperately to avoid arguing with her.  That was the last thing he wanted tonight. 

“It’s never been important before.” She blinked and he swore he could see tears welling in her eyes.  He couldn’t remember ever having seen the stoic woman cry, not once in the time he’d known her. “You know, Wynne thinks our relationship is a bad idea, that we’re being selfish.”

“That’s… a little harsh.”

“She’s not wrong though,” Lucia said, voice clipped as she rose to her feet.  Alistair stood to join her. “If we’re expected to lay down our lives for Thedas,  to end the Blight, then having any sort of commitment to one another is going to get in the way of that.”

“Luce,” he protested, taking her shoulders in his hands, “You don’t believe that.”

“I do, actually.” She smiled in a way he’d never seen from her before.  It was darker, more rebellious. “But everyone else in this world is selfish.  Why can’t we be? Just for a little while. I’d rather not die for others before I’ve had the opportunity to live for myself.  I shouldn’t have to worry about what Ferelden will think when debating if I should tell the man I love that I love him.” 

Lucia brought her eyes up to meet his, and they pierced through him, his heart pounding against his chest as if it were trying to escape.  

“You shouldn’t,” he assured her, pressing his lips to her forehead.  She pulled away and tilted her chin upward. He smiled and kissed the lips that were offered to him, gently, taking her face in his hands. He pulled away and brushed a strand of hair from her face.  She continued to look at him intently, deep in thought. 

“I,” she began, taking a deep, shaky breath before she continued, “I also don’t need Ferelden’s permission if I want to spend the night with the man I love at least once, before it’s too late.”  She laid a hand on his chest and he wondered if she’d been able to feel his heart stop at her words. 

“Is that what you want,” he managed to ask, bringing one of his hands up to cover hers.  His voice shook despite his efforts to calm himself.

“I think so,” she nodded, “I’ve never done it before.”

“We’ll have to figure it out together then, won’t we?” He smiled despite the flush he felt in his cheeks.  Maker, he hadn’t expected it to happen like this. Not that he was disappointed. He’d just figured that he would have been the one asking, fumbling over his words and accidentally offending her ten times before he got the question out.  Instead, it had been her, and she had said it so eloquently at that. 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to if you don’t-.” He interrupted her with a kiss, and she smiled. 

“I’m sure, Luce.” He offered her a reassuring nod. “In fact, there are few things in my life I have been so sure about.  I’d have asked you myself already, but I thought I needed to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place, but I don’t know that we have that luxury.”

“I don’t know,” Lucia said, taking his hand in hers, “It seems perfect to me.” 

His breath was shallow and he shook with anticipation as they walked back through camp.  It was a relief to see that Sten still had the watch instead of Zevran or Oghren, Maker-forbid.  If he noticed at all, the Qunari showed no sign. Even still he would say nothing of Alistair walking into their commander’s tent in the middle of the night. 

Lucia’s tent was large, and tall enough for her to stand in, but Alistair had to crouch uncomfortably to keep his head from bumping against the top of the structure.  She chuckled behind him and apologized. He sat down on her bedroll, legs crossed in an awkward position as he tapped his fingers nervously against his knee. 

“You’re nervous,” she stated as she stood over him, outlined by firelight that trickled in from the still-open tent flap. 

“Aren’t you?” He laughed despite his desire to be serious.  

“No.” Lucia shook her head and sat down beside him. “We don’t have to do this, you know, if you’re too nervous.”

“No, no,” he said urgently, “I’m not too nervous… I just, I feel like my head is going to explode.”

“And how do you figure this will go if you feel that way?” She raised her eyebrows just as she did anytime she was skeptical about something he said. It was oddly comforting. 

“Swell, actually.  I’m used to feeling that way around you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a compliment, I swear.” He brought his hand to his face and fell backward so that he lay on his back. “Maker’s breath, I’m making a mess of this.”

“No, you’re not,” Lucia said as she eased down onto her elbow beside him, running her free hand through his hair.  Her warmth radiated through him, and it was no different than any of the other times they’d been near to one another.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, an attempt to slow down his racing heart. He wanted this more than anything, but he needed to relax. When he opened his eyes, he found her own looking back at him intently. 

She pressed her lips against his, a delicate brush that moved to his jaw  and neck, sending waves of arousal through him drowning out most of the anxiety he felt.  When she looked back up at him, he seized her mouth with his own hand reaching up and grasping desperately at her hair as he pulled her closer to him. She pulled away and sat up fingers working at the knots and clasps that held her armored robes in place, and they dropped, revealing Lucia’s lithe body and lean muscle, breasts covered only by a thin band of fabric.  

Alistair’s breath hitched in his throat as he admired her, and he began to do the same, sitting up and attempting to loosen what armor remained.  He was thankful to have already removed the more difficult pieces when they’d set up camp, as his fingers weren’t cooperating with his mind. Then again, he actually wasn’t certain if his mind was working at all.  Did he even still have one? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps he’d be a babbling fool after this. Well, more of a babbling fool than he already was. 

“Can I?” She asked with a smile, taking his frantic hands in hers.  He nodded, relieved, and she began to remove his splint mail piece by piece, setting each one carefully aside.  When the last piece was removed he reached forward and pulled his own shirt over his head, and tossed it aside, the cool air prickling against his skin despite the heat of the moment.  He pulled Lucia over onto his lap, in a surprising display of boldness, her legs straddling his as he hugged her close to him, shuddering at the feeling her skin against his. 

Alistair pressed gentle kisses along her collar bone, reveling in the sound of her own breath catching.  She froze, and for a moment he worried he had done something wrong, until he saw her slip her hands under her breast band, slip it off and toss it to the side with his shirt.  A grin twitched in the corner of his mouth at the sight of her, but his instinct was to avert his eyes. He had to remind himself that he was allowed to look this time. 

Without hesitation, Lucia took one of his hands and guided it to her breast, his breathing becoming more labored as he felt its weight and roundness in his palm.  He looked between her piercing eyes and her beautiful body, unable to decide what he loved more. He supposed he didn’t have to choose. His chest swelled as he admired her fully, in a way he’d never admired anyone else.  It was an overwhelming feeling that brought tears to his eyes. 

“Are you all right,” she asked, bringing a hand to his cheek.

Alistair nodded, unable to find the words to answer her, and she kissed his cheek before claiming his lips again, so tenderly it made him ache.  She pressed a hand against his chest, an instruction to lay down, and he obeyed, reclining until he was flat in his back and she was over him, her black hair failing from its loose ponytail in strands and hanging down from her face. His heart beat faster and faster, as she worked at the laces in her breeches, sliding them off gracefully.  He was suddenly reminded of the time when he’d walked in in her changing. He’d already seen her naked, and yet this was different, it was special and he felt like the luckiest man alive. 

The next few minutes were a blur and he could not quite remember how she managed to get his pants off without much help from him at all.  Pantsless and pinned down. It would have been his worst nightmare, if it weren’t the love of his life sitting atop him, smiling. He rather liked the view.  Still, he propped himself up with his elbows and then moved back to a sitting position, wanting his hands to be on her skin, wanting to hold her close to him.  

It took a moment before he realized that the warm, intensely pleasant sensation around him was Lucia.  It was nothing he’d ever experienced before. It was euphoric, winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap free.  Too soon. He tried to think about other things: smelly socks, hurlocks, hurlocks wearing smelly socks. Nothing, not even the acknowledgement of the silly rhyme did anything to help decrease the mounting tension in his lower belly.  He was too overcome by the feeling of her over him, around him, hands clinging to him, torrid kisses, tongues tangling together. It was too much. 

“Damn it,” he whispered, pressing his hand to her back and rolling them over, pulling himself out and away from her.  Despite his efforts, his body had other intentions, releasing the pooled tension anyway. He sighed in frustration. As much as he enjoyed the sensation, he enjoyed this time with her more, and he was nowhere near ready for it to end.  He pressed a kiss to her lips and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry, my love. What else feels good to you?” He felt silly for asking, but it wasn’t as if he had any experience, and nobody had ever sat him down and explained to him how to make love to a woman in detail. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Lucia laughed breathlessly, taking the hand he wasn’t using to prop himself up and pulling it down between her legs, bringing his fingertips over a hard little knot just before her opening. Maker, he was going to need to read so many books to figure out how female bodies worked. She guided his hand in circular motions, before letting go for him to do it on his own.  

He delighted in the sounds she made, soft breathless sighs as she clutched at the blankets beneath them.  He brought his mouth to her neck kissing a path down between her breasts. Just as he raised his head upward to meet her eyes, she shuddered, legs coming together against his arm as she shook beneath him, causing him to lose his balance, falling on top of her, his face against her stomach. 

Her laughter at his fall rattled her belly and his face along with it, her fingers brushing through his hair.  He looked up to see the beautiful smile on her lips. In that moment, the stoic Lucia who hid herself from everyone was gone.  He could see her every emotion on her face as clearly as if she told him how she felt. He laughed along with her and rolled over onto his back with a sigh. 

“You know, according to the Chantry, we should have been struck by lightning for this,” he looked over at Lucia who raised up onto her elbow. 

“If the Maker doesn’t care to help us with the Blight, he has no business attending to the private matters that go on in my tent,” she huffed, placing a hand on his chest. “That just makes him a useless pervert.”

“Blasphemy,” he teased, “If you listen closely, you can hear thousands of lay sisters gasping.”

“Good.” Lucia laid her head down on his shoulder, pressing her body against him. “They could use some excitement.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a few moments before Alistair spoke again.  “Hey Luce?”

When she didn’t answer, he looked down to see her eyes closed, and mouth slightly open.  Her breath was slow and heavy, warm against his chest. He figured it probably the first time she had slept in days, and he wouldn’t dare wake her.  Instead, he reached for the blankets at his side and pulled them over the two of them as gently as he could, hugging her more tightly to him and planting a kiss atop her head.  They could talk tomorrow. 


End file.
